When sailing downriver on the Amazon, the first place one encounters a buoy in the water is at the city of Manaus.

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When sailing downriver on the Amazon, the first place one encounters a buoy in
the water is at the large port city of Manaus.

Upriver, the change in the
level of the river is more acute as the channel is narrower, and bouys are
therefore useless. By the time you reach Manaus, where the river is quite broad,
there is an actual pier for ships to dock rather than simply a plank of wood
cast between the boat and the muddy shoreline; there is a container port; there
are oil tankers anchored offshore; there is a more established atmosphere
altogether.

Boats sail from Manaus to Belem on Brazil’s Atlantic coast
twice a week, and as with all boats along the Amazon, they carry both cargo and
passengers.

But it is wise to book a ticket in advance. The operating
agency through which I had booked my jungle tour told me I was lucky because on
the date I was planning to depart, “the best boat that sails to Belem” is the
one which will be sailing.

Another backpacker and I were both planning to
do the trip, so together we went to purchase the tickets in advance. We learned
of a loophole, so we decided to take advantage of it. Someone who books a cabin
can also put up a hammock. So he gave me the money for the cost of his hammock
ticket, and I reserved a cabin – partly paid for by his money. In exchange, he
could store his valuables in the cabin and not worry about theft and he could
use the fridge in the cabin, and I paid less for a cabin ticket.

The
other backpacker is David Oliver, a 36-year-old African-American with dredlocks
cascading down his back, and he is on a 14-month backpacking trip in South
America. He works as a chef in one of the better casinos in Las Vegas, the city
where he was born and raised. He also spent time on a submarine in the US Navy.
During his time in Colombia, he volunteered for four months at an orphanage,
teaching English and improving his Spanish.

The boat ticket clearly
indicated embarkation no later than 10 a.m. on departure day, with actual
departure set for noon. We were also told that we should come to the boat 24
hours prior to departure in order to choose our cabin in that “class” of ticket,
which we did. We were alarmed, however, to see that the cabin they wanted to
assign to us was without windows. We indicated that we had paid a lot of money
(relatively) and should get a better cabin.

Unfortunately, neither of us
speaks Portuguese and we had trouble explaining our preference to the woman
taking us around. Finally, she put us into the hands of “Douglas.” It turns out
Douglas is originally from Savannah, Georgia, but has lived in Brazil for nearly
30 years. He also happens to be the captain of the boat. CNN has done a story on
him as well. Douglas got us the best cabin on board, and during the trip brought
us up onto the bridge.

The cabin still lacked a few amenities, to be
sure, but it was a far cry from the earlier ones we had been shown. What
apparently made this boat “the best” for this route is that it is made of metal
and not wood.

Departure day – we showed up around 9 a.m., stored our gear
in the cabin and then set off to buy some supplies – oranges, bananas, crackers,
bottled water, etc.

When we got back aboard, I decided I had to sleep. I
had acquired a bad cold and had not slept well the night before. Dave went off
to his hammock.

Precisely at noon, the boat began to move. I got out of
bed and went on deck. Looking around, I didn’t immediately see Dave, but the
boat is large so I thought nothing of it and went back to sleep. I awoke a few
hours later and realized we weren’t moving. Going on deck, I discovered we were
still in Manaus, but we had moved to another pier about 400 meters away from the
first.

Dave, meanwhile, had met a local Brazilian. They had decided to go
ashore and were told the boat would only be leaving at 4 p.m. However, when they
returned to the pier, the boat was missing. No one had told them that it was
being moved to another pier, and they were sure it had sailed. Only at the last
minute did they discover the change and make it back aboard – just in time for
departure.

This segment of the Amazon – the 1,600 k.m. from Manaus to
Belem – is very different from the Amazon Basin. The river is much wider. The
current is stronger.

The towns where we stop are more prosperous. There
are actual wharves and piers. Yet the people on board are pure Brazilian –
openly curious and friendly, not put off that you don’t speak Portuguese,
helpful to tourists but also to each other, and people who like to
party.

Every night on the upper deck, there’s music playing, a bit of
drinking and dancing, and a lot of laughter – at least until the rain starts!
Earlier in my trip, I had asked one of my jungle guides when he last saw a
24-hour period without any rain. The response was a simple “never.” It starts.
It stops. People in the streets wander to a place where they can take shelter
for a few minutes, and then they go on about their business. Outside of the
cities, people just continue whatever it is they were doing. For without the
rain, there is no Amazonian rainforest and no mighty Amazon River.

The
last day, a newcomer on board, an American from Virginia who plays the fiddle,
and a Uruguayan who plays a stringed instrument reminiscent of a small mandolin,
gave us a concert which went on for hours.

It was sometimes Irish fiddle
music and sometimes Peruvian or Uruguayan, but each learned quickly from the
other and lent a particularly festive atmosphere to our travels.

This
last day one also sees a huge increase in traffic on the river, with large
barges filled with timber heading for the coast and others loaded with cars
headed inland. Youngsters along the river paddle out to us in small canoes just
to wave, and their parents come alongside selling fruit and occasionally ice
cream.

As we approach Belem, the world changes. There are high-rise
buildings. The air has a hint of salt due to the proximity to the ocean. There
is a formality to the proceedings of disembarking – all very different from
Iquitos, Peru, where I began my river journey. I have travelled some 3,000 k.m.
along this waterway and revelled in every minute of it.

If you ever have
a few weeks to spare and are in the mood for a bit of an adventure, sailing down
the Amazon will give you an incredible cornucopia of experiences.

There
are “hotel boats” which offer better amenities, but if you are prepared to rough
it for a bit, go local and rub shoulders with the Peruvians, Colombians and
Brazilians, and the occasional other tourist.

It will provide memories
that last a lifetime and perhaps even make you some new friends.

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